


Broadfields

by sporadic_obsession



Series: Post Break-Up SKTS Feels [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Break Up, Song Lyrics, i think 'happy ending' is stretching it but maybe hopeful ending?, yeah that's better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29006037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sporadic_obsession/pseuds/sporadic_obsession
Summary: “Sing me something to bring me down,‘Cause I can’t find anything like that sound.I don’t need it anymore, oh…Let my heart break in the broadfields.”Atsumu sings -- Sakusa listens.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Post Break-Up SKTS Feels [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127879
Kudos: 13





	Broadfields

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the SKTS BB discord for reminding me this song exists and getting me all up in my feelings. Socks, if you're reading this - you're welcome.  
> You can listen to the song that inspired this wreck [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GoyNmvHNFCg).  
> You can read the first part, which explains Sakusa's point of view and what led to the break up, but it deals with heavy themes; it's not required to understand this one, either.
> 
> If you wanna scream at me on twitter about this, you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/sprdc_obssn)!  
> 

Dark.

Atsumu sees nothing but darkness around him, the world faded out as he breathes heavily. There’s sweat on his forehead and his shirt sticks to his back, but he pays it no mind. All his focus is on the weight of the guitar in his hands, the strap on his shoulder grounding him as he counts down. In his ear, he hears his sound engineer ask him just for another second, and then--

“Go.”

Atsumu opens his eyes to find a single headlight on him, the rest of his bandmates blacked out for the moment. He can make out the faces of the crowd who came to watch them, the small venue packed to the brim. Some of them reach their hands out as if they can touch him, and Atsumu manages a smile for the fans -- despite whatever he’s feeling, he always pulls through for the people who’ve chosen to adore him.

He scans the crowd once, twice, brown eyes taking in the different faces and expressions. They’re all quiet now, whereas a few minutes ago he saw them jumping and screaming along to one of his band’s heavier sounds. He likes the respect they offer him, despite the obvious itch to move. He’ll get them moving again soon, he just needs this one song. Continuing to look over, he finds the balcony, and his heart makes a forceful sound in his chest as he spots the familiar face -- a face he hasn’t seen in quite a while.

His sound tech reminds him he has to play, and so Atsumu does.

He plucks at the strings of his acoustic guitar in a repetitive pattern, eyes downcast as he watches his fingers move. He’s practiced this enough that he doesn’t have to see what he’s doing for it to come out right, but, still, he doesn’t look up. His hair has dropped down his forehead over the length of the concert, and it hides his eyes as he plays the pattern on his guitar. He welcomes the curtain, allowing himself a moment to frown, before he takes a deep breath and looks up again, eyes closing as he leans forward to sing.

“ _I used to hear the melody,_ _  
__The voice only I know…_ _  
__The rhythm and the rain beating down my window…_

 _It’s clear to me, and I can see_ _  
__Through each and every pain,_ _  
__That I grew up and I forgot to feel that way again…_ ”

His picking turns into strumming as he proceeds to the pre-chorus, eyes opening to face the people once more. They watch him, enamored by his voice; he knows, he can read the love in their eyes. Still, it’s not their eyes he wants to read love from. Beside him, the lights slowly illuminate his band mates, the electric guitar played by his twin brother resounding alongside his own acoustic notes.

“ _I’ve been lost by the city, drowned by the sea._ _  
__I’ve been up on the rooftops, still I’m caving in._ _  
__You can scream bloody murder, loud as you want_ _  
__I’m not listening now…_ ”

There’s a break, only a few seconds, and as Atsumu breathes in, he glances at the balcony seats again -- there. He sees the way those dark eyes watch him, the face mask hiding the expression on his lips, but he can read him all the same. Regret, sadness, longing; no love, but Atsumu knows it’s there, too. Even after all this time, he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the abyss as he sings.

“ _Sing me something to bring me down,_ _  
__‘Cause I can’t find anything like that sound._ _  
__I don’t need it anymore, oh…_ _  
__Let my heart break in the broadfields._ ”

He pulls away from the microphone, picking at the strings again as he glances away from the man that has haunted his dreams for so many years now. It’s been a difficult journey for the two of them, he guesses, not just himself. When he broke it off with Sakusa, he foolishly expected his heart to heal. Sakusa was emotionally unavailable to him -- there were kisses and gifts, but it was like his body was protected by a steel cage, his soul untouchable. No matter how much Atsumu gave, it was never enough to reach him.

“ _It’s the look between the fences,_ _  
__My hands unto the bridge --_ _  
__I swore that I would understand the whispers in the trees._ ”

Like those summer afternoons they spent together, sitting on a wooden bench in a park nearby their shared home. The soft breeze swayed Sakusa’s hair and Atsumu couldn’t help but think how beautiful he looked. Every touch, however, felt like he was reaching for a marble statue -- Sakusa smiled slowly, his eyes glazed over and Atsumu was never sure what he was thinking. Sometimes, he’d say something in a whisper so soft, Atsumu couldn’t understand -- he never asked him to explain, either.

“ _But the older I got, the more I felt at loss._ _  
__Now I’m run through with rut - covered in frost._ _  
__I have wandered so low, now that I’m here_ _  
__I just wanna go home…_ ”

Now with the full band behind him, the song feels full. It’s a beautiful piece, Atsumu thinks; a battle in melancholy that he’s crafted from the pieces of his broken heart. He knows -- _he knows_ \-- that he was the one to break it himself. It was him who cried as he broke up with Sakusa after two years. He was the one yelling angrily about how he was not giving his all when Atsumu had given him everything. He was the one to deface the home they built together, to break the set of dishes they chose out of a magazine with their eyes closed, to rip apart the relationship they’d been nurturing for over twenty four months.

He was the only one to cry, that day.

“ _S_ _ing me something to bring me down,_ _  
__‘Cause I can’t find anything like that sound._ _  
__I don’t need it anymore, oh…_ _  
__Let my heart break in the broadfields._ ”

His brother stands beside him now, like he did when Atsumu showed up on his doorstep after ending his relationship with Sakusa. Osamu strums at his strings with crafted precision, and plays out the wails Atsumu let him hear that day. They’re not touching, he’s not holding him close like he did for hours on-end, but his presence engulfs Atsumu all the same. His steady pillar, a permanent marker in his pathetic life. They don’t say it often, usually opting for childish insults hurled at one another, but Atsumu knows -- no matter what, they’ll always have one another in the end.

The song slows, and Atsumu is alone. There’s no brother beside him, no friends behind him. There’s no crowd in front of him or sound and light engineers watching him for the next step. There’s just him, his guitar, and Sakusa, whose eyes have not yet glazed over. His dark orbs shine, although they should be melting into the darkness; his long fingers are wrapped over the rail of the balcony he stands upon, as if he’s leaning forward. Atsumu’s brown eyes are melted puddles of mud, reminiscent of the wet dirt covering their old car, abandoned in a road close to their old home.

He breaks out of his moment, his hands leaving his guitar -- his pick lost to the crowd as he throws his hands out to hold onto his microphone, his voice gritty with the force of his emotions as he pleads, as he begs for a second chance, because he can’t go on like this.

“ _Rain, rain, rain!_ _  
__Carry me home…_ _  
__Wash away the pain, pain, shame_ _  
__That I’ve come to know!_ ”

Sakusa has always been like a distant storm. The clouds keep swirling behind his eyes, but they never quite make it to where Atsumu stands. He’s always been just a little too out of reach, even when they woke up in the same bed. His dark hair has always reminded Atsumu of the tumultuous waves that precede a tempest. His eyes are the abyss to which he’ll fall if he tries to step too close to the eye of the storm. 

Atsumu doesn’t mind.

“ _Rain, rain, rain!_ _  
__Carry me home…_ _  
__Wash away the pain, pain, shame_ _  
__That I’ve come to know!_ ”

His guitar lays against his stomach, forgotten about for the time being. Osamu fills in the blank of the sound with his own, strumming gentler than earlier, a quiet reminder Atsumu is not alone. Atsumu appreciates it, but he pays him no mind -- he’s laser-focused, eyes washed over with tears he won’t allow to fall. He stares into the storm, into this abyss he’s willing to fall into, and he sings, voice softer than ever as he pours out the rest of his feelings for Sakusa to hear.

“ _I think that it’s time…_  
 _I think that it’s time_   
_I went home._  
 _Home…_ ”

His chest rises and falls slowly, and there’s a lull in the venue for a moment, before the crowd fills the silence with cheers. Atsumu looks away from the man he’s been loving for years, the only man he’s willing to spend the rest of his life with, damned be the consequences. If he has to give all of himself and more to someone who can’t give himself back, he’ll take it. He’ll climb over any wall, break down the house of glass Sakusa has built himself; he’ll swim through the sea that consumes him until he reaches the eye of the storm, and he’ll drown in it.

He puts on his best smile for the crowd, handing his acoustic guitar off to a sound tech before he positions himself behind the microphone once more, ready to deliver more of his songs to these people. The fans that have gathered watch him like hawks, ready to take any piece of himself he’s willing to give; the crowd shares parts of themselves back by crying and screaming along to the lyrics he’s written, to the sounds composed between him and his band. He loves every second of it, the freedom of allowing himself to feel and exist in a space full of strangers -- it’s all the remedy he needs for his pain.

By the time the concert is over, Atsumu feels lighter than before. His heart still feels heavy in his chest, but his body floats, almost. He’s full of a feeling of freedom he only gets right after a show, the high of the moment following him around as he navigates towards the back room. It’s their last show for a while, the need to settle down and write more material proving itself stronger than Atsumu’s need to constantly keep moving.

He doesn’t mind, this time; there’s something he needs to do.

He celebrates with his band mates backstage, grins on their faces as they drink to a good run on their tour. Osamu has his arm around Atsumu’s shoulders as he laughs with Suna, their bassist, about something the singer isn’t paying attention to. Their drummer, Aran, is off to the side talking to their manager Kita, the two sharing soft smiles that betray the nature of their relationship, even if they won’t admit it. Atsumu is happy for them, he is, but the way Suna is tugging on Osamu’s wrist has become something more pressing, and he knows he’s the fifth-wheel.

Despite the fact there are other people in the room, Atsumu feels alone.

He slides from under Osamu’s weight and takes a swig from his bottle, drinking the last of his beer. It’s not something he finds much comfort in, but he allows the bitter taste to coat his tongue all the same. He throws the bottle at the trash can nearby and grabs his hooded jacket, slipping his arms into it and hiding his face as he walks through the back door into the alley.

There are no fans here, courtesy of the security team at the venue, and Atsumu is glad. He needs fresh air, needs to make sure his lungs are strong and ready to delve into a storm from which he might not survive.

“Atsumu.”

Thunder -- Atsumu turns to look at the source of the sound, and it’s like he’s being struck by lightning. Sakusa looks beautiful from afar, and ethereal up close -- like a fallen angel, wings torn and frayed, but full of a grace that separates him from the rest of the world. Atsumu takes his time watching him come closer, one side of his lips quivering upwards at the way his curls bounce slightly with each step. He’s wearing all black, not unlike himself, the contrast against his pale skin making it almost seem like he’s glowing under the moonlight.

The alley is quiet except for Sakusa’s steps, and when he stops walking, standing maybe a little closer than a normal person would, there’s nothing to fill the silence.

“Atsumu,” the dark-haired man says again, and there’s something new in his tone; something Atsumu has never heard before. “Atsumu, I love you.” The words have been said before, whispered beneath white sheets and after concerts and in lively parks, but never like this; never this full of pain that Atsumu has never been allowed to hear before. “Atsumu, please, don’t leave me again.”

The singer can’t help himself as he pushes off from where he was leaning against the wall and stumbles right into Sakusa, his strong arms wrapping around the taller man in a tight embrace. Sakusa doesn’t hug him back, but that’s fine; Atsumu knows he would, if he wasn’t holding him so tightly. He can tell by the way his breath shudders against his ear and how his hands tremble at his side.

“Kiyoomi,” he whispers to him, giving him a final squeeze before he loosens his hold enough for the man to hold him back. Their chests pressed together, he times the beats of his heart to Sakusa’s own; he’s never heard it as clearly as he hears it today. “I’m sorry,” he says, not daring to pull back and look at his lover’s face. “I’m sorry I left, I won’t do it again, I promise. I love you.”

“I know,” Sakusa’s voice is a stuttering thing, his words coming out in a rushed whisper, “I know I’m terrible but I’ll try, _I’ll try_ , I can’t lose you too, not you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Omi.” Atsumu doesn’t make a promise, because he won’t make one he can’t keep, but he will damn well try. “I’ll try harder to understand. If you’re willing to let me, I’ll try to understand everything. You’ve got me.”

They stay in their embrace, in that empty back alley, for a while. No one comes to look for them, no one tries to break them apart. The sky is darkening as clouds gather above them, threatening the city with rain.

Still, Atsumu doesn’t move -- he’s ready to face the weather, to give himself into the storm, now that he has the chance to.

He’s finally ready to go home.


End file.
